


The Halls of Level Nine

by Willowingends



Series: The Department of Mysteries [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:22:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowingends/pseuds/Willowingends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville had never thought to face down the demon of his childhood nightmares, but he'd always expected to fail. Only now, it didn't feel like failure, and he could look at his parents without feeling ashamed of himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Halls of Level Nine

“Mum, Dad, I met her.”  
“Mum, I'm not sure if you can understand me, but I fought her.”  
“Dad, I tried to make you proud but I lost.”  
“I got a bloody nose and a curse thrown at me and I had to depend on others to protect me.”  
“But I'm young, I guess, and I did my best. I saved my friend Hermione.”  
“I've told you about her, the smart, nice one who's always helping me with work.”  
…..

“I didn't defeat her, in fact, she killed someone important.”  
“Again.”  
“But I did my best and I stood up to her, and I tried to make you proud.”  
…..

“I wish I knew you were proud of me.”  
“I wish I didn't feel so good even though I failed you.”  
“One day I'll make it up to you.”  
“One day, everyone who hurt you won't be able to hurt anyone else ever again.”  
“Mum, Dad?”  
“I love you.”  
“Thanks for the present.”

It had been difficult to visit St. Mungo's by himself, but Neville had felt like he had to do it alone. His grandmother would talk over him without meaning to, tell her son and daughter-in-law that she was so proud of Neville for charging forward into danger, for trying to avenge them.

And that wasn't what he'd been trying to do at all.

He'd been trying to be a good friend, and the opportunity to avenge them had presented itself.

And he had failed, but for some reason, he didn't feel torn up over it. He didn't feel useless and hopeless. He only felt light, like he had done something well. And he wasn't sure what it was that he had done well, but he liked the feeling, and maybe, if he talked long enough, he'd figure it out.

The one-sided conversations used to unnerve him, but now, it makes things easier. He can talk and ramble on and on with no interruptions. And he knows it makes his parents happy, to hear his voice, to see him with them. At least, he likes to think it does, because they smile at him and seem to light up when they see him enter the ward. 

He was happy the Department of Mysteries had given him this. An appreciation for the little things his parents did a bravery to visit them without his grandmother there to act as a barrier between him and the truth that they never really understood what he said, never really cared that he had failed them or met the woman who had tortured them to insanity.

Now he wished he had learned a bit earlier what his grandmother had tried to teach him.

To be proud of them, to be proud of himself, to know that no matter what, on some level, they knew him, and they loved him, and no matter what he did, they'd be proud of him.

He didn't want to thank Bellatrix for this lesson. It didn't come from her. It came from him and the bravery that grew when you faced what you feared and hated the most and lived to talk about it.

He reached out and took his mother's hand, squeezed it gently, and smiled at her as warmly and as fully as he could manage with his face still stiff from Pomfrey's spells and his body still weak from all the running and adrenaline and fear that had fueled him. “Love you mum.” He whispered. “And I promise, I'll never let another child feel as hopeless as I have these past years.” Because he knew that she would be proud of him if he managed just that. He didn't have to be a hero to the wizarding world, just a couple of people, just to himself.

“Love you dad.” He bent and kissed his father's forehead before stepping away. For his father he would become strong, someone people could come to for advice on how best to stay safe in the changing times. He knew how to stay safe, unnoticed, and he knew for many that would be more important than any spell or story of great battle. He would do what he knew best, and he knew it would make them proud.

And sometimes he'd wake up in the middle of the night, awakened by her awful laugh ringing in his ears, her words playing on a loop in his mind. But he could turn and look at the presents his mother had given him, small and useless as they were, and knew that he had something to be more afraid of then the demon who haunted his dreams and hunted the people he cared about.

He had to be afraid of letting someone innocent get hurt.

And until this war was over he'd do his best to make sure no one was hurt when he could step in.

And after the war, well, he'd find his own way to make Hogwarts a safe home for so many students again.


End file.
